


eric dier’s neck

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: Dele meets a guy at a masked party. That guy is Eric Dier - Dele just doesn’t know it.(AU in which Dele is not a footballer. He hates footballers. Eric Dier however is a footballer... shenanigans ensue)
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64
Collections: Deledier Fic Exchange 2020





	eric dier’s neck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ftballfangrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ftballfangrl/gifts).



> for Callie (@ericdiersneck). 
> 
> I hope you like this one. Merry Christmas xxxx

People always said drinking Champagne was like tasting the stars, but all Dele tasted was fizzy wine that burned in his throat as he forced it down. He pasted a smile on his face and joined the toast his brother had just made. _Here’s to a brilliant Christmas with loved ones and shit tonnes of booze!_

Dele smiled and wandered off towards the window. The night was deep black velvet outside, the air crisp and cold. It was smoky with the smell of someone’s log fire, the only thing tangible in the dark night. Dele felt his heart ache for Australia as he took another sip of champagne, sighing when the bubbles slid down into his belly. 

There hadn’t been a single day since he’d come home that he didn’t miss Australia. He missed the sea and the heat, the relaxed way of life. He missed drinking in rooftop bars and Christmas parties on boats in the middle of the ocean, passing a joint around his friends and taking body shots off pretty girls. 

It wasn’t the same in England. It was cold and dreary and bleak. It was as grey and lifeless as a wet handkerchief, and that was exactly how Dele felt here. He felt empty. 

“Chin up, Del,” a voice said from behind him. 

Dele turned from the window and looked at his brother Harry’s girlfriend, Robyn. He smiled at her and took another mouthful of his drink. 

“You can’t be unhappy on the first of December!” 

Dele laughed but it sounded fake to his own ears. “Ignore me,” he told her. “Not happy unless I’m complaining, am I?” 

She sighed at him. “Del, it’s going to be okay you know. You’ll soon get used to being home again and you’ll find another girl before you know it.” 

Dele looked down at his shoes and willed himself not to blush. He really, really didn’t want to talk about girls with Robyn of all people. He didn’t want to talk about girls full stop. He never wanted to get involved with one ever again. 

“Cheers, Robyn,” he said. “I’ll be alright, honestly. What time is the cab picking us up?” 

“Twenty minutes,” Robyn grinned. “It’s gonna be so good.” 

Dele rolled his eyes. It was going to be a wanky Christmas themed masquerade house party that Harry was dragging them to, and it was going to be lads shouting about football and the kind of Instagram model girls that Dele was steadfastly avoiding. “Can’t we just stay in? Watch Strictly?” 

“You know Harry can’t miss this one,” Robyn said with a grin. “Couldn’t miss out on the chance to network with the Premier League’s brightest and best stars.” 

Dele groaned. He hated football. He’d played with Harry growing up as kids, but Dele veered off into music and fashion and partying. Sports wasn’t exactly his idea of fun. “I’m not staying later than two,” he told Robyn firmly. “I’m getting a taxi to the 24 hour Mcdonalds and I’m coming straight home to bed.” 

“I’ll be right there with you, don’t worry,” Robyn laughed conspiratorially. She squeezed his hand and wandered off to find Harry, her masquerade mask swinging in her spare hand.

Dele downed the remaining alcohol in his glass and picked up his mask from the table. At least he could pretend he was some kind of superhero in this thing. Maybe if he could pretend he was someone else for the night, he would actually enjoy himself. Maybe. 

~

The party was as grim as he’d feared it would be. Apparently half the people there were footballers, but the only person Dele even recognised was Harry Kane and he only knew that against his will. The bastard. 

Harry Kane was the only person who even stopped to say hi to Dele, actually, so Dele decided he resented him a little bit less. At least he was sure it was Harry Kane - his mask said HK right on the forehead. The rest of them were assholes though. Dele largely stood behind Harry and Robyn and necked whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. 

The house was big and white and clinical, cold. Dele watched the way everyone interacted with interest - it was clear who the popular people were, the ones who could hold a room. He imagined in another life that if these were his people he’d be the life and soul of this party. As it was he was a stranger, dragged along by his pitying big brother, and his mind was somewhere in Melbourne ten thousand miles away. 

He swallowed the bitter dregs of a glass of whiskey he’d stolen from the cupboard and decided to go snooping around this ridiculously massive house. Dele snuck past a group that were shouting loudly about someone called Winksy and took off down the hall, relieved to be away from the cacophony of voices. 

There was a large glass staircase at the end of the hallway with a big green Christmas tree sparkling beside it. Dele wandered up the stairs, checking furtively that the coast was clear. He ducked into the first bedroom on the first floor, closing the door gently behind him. The room barely looked lived in, and Dele rolled his eyes at the size of the wardrobe built in along the wall. He slid one of the doors open and looked at the rows of shoes - all hideous and probably worth more than his car. 

It was a 2007 Corsa and he’d bought it on Gumtree when he got home from Australia. He did have an Audi before he’d left home, but he was so sure he was never coming back that he’d sold it. He missed that car, but not as much as he missed the life he’d built in Melbourne. Dele had never felt all that connected to the UK, and he was happy to jump ship and wash his hands of it all. There were so many things that embodied this sinister British right wing mentality - the same racism Dele had grown up battling. From the Conservative Party’s ten year stint in government to Brexit, to the horrific fire at Grenfell Tower and the streets named after slave owners, all the way to the little things like £2 Wetherspoons pints and the fucking England national football team. 

Dele hated all of it. 

He slipped into the en-suite toilet and had a secretive piss, rolling his eyes at the quality of the toilet paper. What was wrong with good old Andrex? This fancy stuff felt like cashmere against his fingers. It was wasteful. 

He washed his hands with fancy soap and considered nicking a bottle of it and some of the toilet paper. He touched up his hair in the mirror and adjusted his mask, checking the time on his watch - only three more hours till he could fuck off. Dele thought about just leaving then and there, making some excuse about feeling unwell, but he knew Harry would just bring up Dele being all depressed and weird again and it wasn’t worth the headache. 

Dele left the bathroom and made his way out of the bedroom. He was closing the door quietly behind him when someone said “Uh, do I know you?” 

Dele spun around, heart thumping. He looked down at the guy and shook his head. “No. I’m uh - looking for the balcony. So I can have a fag.” 

“So you’re not a footballer then,” the guy said, looking Dele up and down. “Can I ask who you’ve come with?” 

Something about his attitude was irritating and Dele crossed his arms. “My brother hangs around with a lot of footballers and agents and stuff. He’s called Harry Hickford.” 

“You don’t look like brothers,” the guy said. 

“Are you thick?” Dele responded, dumbfounded. 

“Do you know who I am? Take that mask off right now.” 

Dele was about to open his mouth to tell the guy to go fuck himself when another guy appeared up the stairs. He was big and broad and had a Zorro style mask on, which did nothing to conceal the grin on his face. 

“Leave it out Winksy, yeah? He came in earlier with one of Ben’s agent’s friends.” 

Dele looked from the big guy back down at Winksy and tried really hard not to stick out his tongue. 

“Whatever,” Winksy scoffed, already retreating. “Don’t blame me for being cautious around strangers.” 

The big guy watched Winksy walk away and shook his head fondly before turning back to Dele. “You alright mate?” 

Something about the guy made Dele want to be his friend. Or maybe he wanted to feel those muscles under his hands. He wasn’t sure. “Honestly? Can’t fucking stand parties like this and I hate football. Think it’s full of rich, racist homophobic wankers. I’m leaving soon.” 

The guy’s forehead crinkled behind his mask and Dele assumed he had raised his eyebrows. “I can’t say I disagree with you. I hate it too, I’m only here because I have to be. Work and that.” 

“Do you know how I get outside by any chance? I want a cig,” Dele replied, taking a packet out of his pocket and waving it about. 

The guy laughed. “Bad habit that. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Dele followed behind as the guy lead the way. He wondered if he was being set up somehow, lead away into a dark corner of the house to be hazed or something. As much as his brain indulged in those anxieties though, this guy made him feel at ease. Dele knew he wasn’t a threat. 

They emerged onto a big balcony with views of London that made Dele’s breath whistle low through his lips. It was the first split second in a long time that Dele hadn’t felt revulsion when thinking of the UK, and he had to forcibly remind himself that he was surrounded by Premier League dunderheads, rich socialites, Instagram models and others who benefited from the UK tabloid machine. 

He followed the big guy’s lead and sat down in one of the chairs that flanked a low table, pulling out a Sterling Dual from the packet in his back pocket. He offered one to the big guy, who paused for a second before sliding a cigarette out and placing it between his lips. 

Dele lit his own cigarette and then gave the lighter to his new acquaintance. “So what do you do - uh -“ 

“Eric,” the guy offered, taking a drag on the cigarette and letting his eyes close. Dele noted that he was very handsome from what he could see behind the mask - the kind of guy you’d expect to find surfing on Bondi Beach with sandy toes and sun bleached hair. “What do I do? Well. Amongst other things, I’ve got my own app. A kind of social media for sharing food recommendations.” 

Dele tried not to roll his eyes. Of course this guy was in a tech startup. Still, at least he wasn’t a fucking footballer. “Oh yeah? I’ll have to download it. What’s it called?” 

“Spotlas. It’s pretty cool. What do you do -“ 

“Dele. I’m looking for work at the minute actually. Just got back from Australia where I’ve been for the last three and a bit years. Would still be there given the chance.” 

Eric inhaled another draw of his cigarette and asked “Oh yeah? Why are you home then?” 

Dele flinched at the word home. He didn’t know where home was or if it even existed. Either way, it wasn’t this country. “Bad break up.” 

“You break up with them?”

Dele didn’t know this guy but somehow he felt that getting it all out to a stranger would be cathartic. That, and Harry and Robyn were sick of hearing about it. “She broke up with me. I knew it was coming for a long time, we never had much in common. I really wanted the green card though, I know that’s sick. I thought I’d marry her and have some Australian kids and live out the rest of my life in the sunshine. Then she broke up with me and kicked me out and I... kind of went off the rails. I got caught with a lot of drugs. They deported me very quickly.” 

Eric’s mouth was slightly ajar as he looked at Dele, as if he was expecting Dele to say that he was only joking. Dele blew a ring of smoke out into the night air and watched as it disappeared into nothing, the same way his hopes and dreams had. 

“Why’d she break up with you? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

This was the part Dele usually glossed over. He took a deep breath and decided he’d be honest for a change. “She caught me watching gay porn. More than once.” Dele shrugged. “Didn’t like it.” 

Eric choked on a lungful of smoke and Dele wished he hadn’t said anything. Maybe this guy was just as homophobic as all the other clowns downstairs. 

“Why were you... are you? Gay?” 

“Dunno. Haven’t tried it.” 

“Right... but you get off to it?” 

“You gonna beat me up if I say yes?” 

Eric laughed and Dele felt something inside him relax. That laugh wasn’t unkind at all. 

“Not gonna beat you up. Actually, would’ve probably offered to let you try some of it out. On me. I’m feeling in a giving mood.” 

It was Dele’s turn to choke on the smoke. He hastily put the Cigarette out into the plant pot beside his chair and laughed. “Oh yeah. I’d totally say yes too. Not like we’re strangers or anything.” 

“Nah, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Life’s for living and all that. Plus, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Don’t even need to take our stupid masks off. I’ll suck you off and you can phone your ex misses up in Australia and tell her you’re not even gay, you don’t need the porn anymore. Everyone wins.” 

Dele couldn’t help but feel a little suspicious. “What’s in it for you? Mr tech startup? You got a micro cock or something? Struggle to pull usually?” 

Eric laughed then, a big booming hearty laugh. “Quite the opposite. What’s in it for me? In my line of work, people throw themselves at you for money and stuff. You don’t even seem to know who I am. I deserve a nice no frills fuck as much as the next guy.” 

Dele supposed there was a lot of money in the app game. “Say I did agree to this. Where do you live?” 

“Not far away. I’ll call an Uber. You okay with dogs though? I’ve got two of them.” 

Dele loved dogs. “Fine. You’ve got a deal. But as soon as I say I want to leave, I’m leaving. And you can’t tell anyone because I don’t want it getting back to my brother.” 

Eric got to his feet slowly, unfurling to his full height and size the way fireworks expand into dazzling displays of beauty in the night sky. He held out a hand for Dele and Dele, against any of his better judgements, took it. 

~

Dele grabbed Robyn’s arm on his way out of the house and whispered that he was leaving in her ear. She asked if he was okay, worried, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve pulled,” he said. 

Eric walked out of the house and up the drive way with his hands in his pockets. Dele walked beside him without saying anything, his mind exploding with worries. Was this a bad idea? What the hell were they going to do? Who was this guy? What if he got hurt? 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Eric said suddenly like he was reading Dele’s mind. “We can just have a drink and chat. No pressure.” 

Dele shrugged again, trying to act like he didn’t care either way. “Yeah. Just play it by ear.” 

Eric turned to him at the bottom of the street, the designated pick up for their Uber, and he smiled. “How have I never seen you before...” he mumbled, and Dele bit his lip. 

“Been in Australia, haven’t I. Duh.” 

“I like you, Dele,” Eric said fondly, and then he moved in and pressed a little kiss to Dele’s mouth. “You’re funny.” 

Dele was breathless as Eric stood up and waved a hand at the black car that was driving towards them. He smelled so good, clean and fresh. Expensive, almost. Images flashed through Dele’s mind of men together in bed, in the bathroom, in a car, skin and heavy breathing and big strong hands. He felt his cheeks burn as he got into the car after Eric, sliding into the leather seat and listening as Eric greeted the driver. 

They set off into London and Eric placed a hand on Dele’s thigh. Dele’s skin tingled under his touch. He wanted that hand to move higher. He wanted to suck the fingers into his mouth. He wanted to let this guy make him feel like he wasn’t stuck in dreary old Britain. 

Eric let his thumb swipe softly against Dele’s thigh. Dele was finding it difficult not to get turned on, the heat from Eric seeming to envelop the entire car. Dele wondered if the driver could feel the sexual tension in the air. Eric was looking out the window calmly, his mask still concealing his face. Dele couldn’t wait to take it off him. 

The car pulled into a street that had Dele’s jaw dropping open. These houses were huge and the cars that were parked in their drives were worth more than even Dele himself. The taxi stopped outside a big house, all white and glass with an Aston Martin parked outside. Eric’s app had to be making _bank._

“Cheers buddy,” Eric said to the driver. Dele was still trying to get his seatbelt off with shaking hands when Eric appeared at his door and opened it for him, hand outstretched. 

Dele took it and straightened up, taking in the building before him. Eric lead the way down the path and used three different keys to unlock the door. Fort Knox. 

Dele blinked in the light that sprung on as they stepped into the house. It smelled expensive like Eric did, not like leftover dinner or dogs or damp. The smells Dele was used to. He didn’t know whether to take his shoes off and he shuffled awkwardly as Eric disappeared into the house, lights coming on as he moved. Dele could hear the sound of dog paws on wooded floor. He toed off his shoes and went towards the sound. 

Eric was kneeling down and scratching two big labradors, who bounded towards Dele when he entered the room. Dele greeted them warmly, secretly hoping they wouldn’t get fur all over his clothes. He looked over at Eric who was watching them fondly and before his anxiety could take over he walked quickly into Eric’s space, heart hammering, and crashed their mouths together. 

Eric pushed Dele back gently. “Slow down,” he said calmly. “Do you want a drink?” 

Dele felt himself blushing again. Fuck, he was fucking this up. “Uh, beer, if you’ve got it.” 

Eric slid a bottle of Peroni towards Dele and poured himself a glass of red wine. “Come and sit down,” he said, voice as rich and intoxicating as the wine in his glass. “Make yourself comfortable.” 

Dele followed him into a cosy lounge, all books and tasteful furniture and soft carpet. Dele sat down on the sofa and took a sip of his beer, trying hard not to stare at all the things on Eric’s bookshelves. 

“So. How did you end up at the party tonight?” Dele asked, desperate to break the silence. 

Eric swirled his wine glass so that the ruby red liquid spread up the sides and spidered back down again. “I got dragged along. Against my will, more often than not.” 

“Me too,” Dele mused. “And how’s a man like you single? Bit of a playboy?” He teased, hoping his voice at least sounded confident even when he didn’t feel it. 

The smile that had been playing on Eric’s lips fell and Dele wished he hadn’t asked. “It’s... complicated. I like men, obviously. But my line of work doesn’t allow -“ 

“I would’ve thought there would be lots of gay food critics and social media users?” Dele interjected, confused. 

Eric licked at his lips that were stained a deep berry red from the wine. Dele waited for his answer, and then Eric was placing his wine on the coffee table and leaning into Dele’s space. He pressed a kiss to Dele’s jaw, peppered them down his neck to his collar bone and back. Dele’s breath hitched as Eric’s fingers fluttered to the back of his head and pulled gently on the ribbon holding his mask up. Dele blinked as Eric pulled his mask away, leaving his full face exposed to scrutiny. He wondered if Eric was finding him uglier than he thought, regretting his choices. Eric didn’t say anything but leaned in and this time kissed Dele’s mouth. 

Kissing Eric tasted like red wine and sweet breath. His lips were slightly chapped and his beard scratched at Dele’s chin. For his size and his presence, though, Eric was soft and light and gentle. His mouth was sure and confident, in control. Dele was embarrassingly hard after only minutes of making out. He’d never done this with another man and he liked it more than he even thought he would. 

Eric pulled back slowly and Dele chased his mouth with embarrassing eagerness. Eric laughed gently and shook his head, hand in the centre of Dele’s chest. “Don’t rush,” he said, but he was breathless. “I want to go slow.” 

Dele’s eyes landed on Eric’s pulse jumping in his neck and he moved towards it, leaning in and sucking down hard enough to bruise. Eric moaned and Dele licked at the blooming purple on Eric’s pale skin. It was a wonderful neck - thick and muscly, broad and manly. Dele wanted to bury his face in it and never come back up for air. 

“You okay?” Eric breathed. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” Dele said. “But I want you to take your mask off.” 

Eric pulled the mask off on command and Dele took in his face for the first time. This man was gorgeous. Beautiful, kind, rich - Dele knew there had to be a catch. This was too good to be true. But that could wait. 

“You’re hot,” Dele said. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

Eric answered by pulling Dele’s jumper over his head and laying him back against the couch. He pressed kissed to Dele’s collar bones and chest, flicked at his nipples with his tongue. By the time Eric’s mouth made its way south of Dele’s belly button Dele was shaking again and his cock was straining against his trousers. 

“Can I?” Eric asked, and Dele nodded eagerly. 

Eric undid Dele’s trousers like he was unwrapping a present. Dele lifted his hips and let his trousers slide off his legs, and before he could hide it Eric was touching the wet patch on Dele’s pants, a low groan in his throat. “Fucking hell. That girl who broke up with you is crazy.” 

Dele huffed out a laugh. “Shut up.” 

Eric released Dele’s dick then and the next thing Dele knew he was in a world of soft wet heaven, all consuming and deliriously good. Dele moaned and scratched his finger tips against Eric’s buzz cut. He knew he would come embarrassingly quickly - he was literally living out every fantasy he’d ever had with the sexiest man on Earth. 

Eric didn’t seem to need to stop for air and Dele barely managed to gasp _gonna come_ before he was shooting down Eric’s throat, his head tipped back against the arm of the sofa in ecstasy. 

Eric kissed his thighs lazily whilst Dele came down from his high. He looked dazedly at Eric and smiled. “Wow,” he said. “That was... good.” 

“Just good?” Eric drawled. “Wow. I’ve had better praise I must say.” 

“It was sensational,” Dele said. “Best blowie I’ve ever had.” 

“That’s more like it.” 

Dele kissed Eric some more, and with trembling hands let his fingers brush over the bulge in Eric’s jeans. It felt huge, and Dele was light headed with the excitement of it all. He undid Eric’s belt slowly and carefully, wanting to take his time. This would probably be his one and only chance at this. He wanted to get it right. 

With ultimate concentration Dele unzipped Eric’s jeans and licked his lips. He took a deep breath and pulled out Eric’s cock. It was big and girthy, hard but soft as silk. Dele leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of it and it twitched in his hand. He looked up at Eric from under his lashes and nearly let out another groan. 

Eric’s eyes were dark and heavy, his mouth set sexily. Dele thought there was a chance he was in love with this man already. Without breaking eye contact he began to move his hand, letting the precome dribbling down act as a slippery lube. 

“Slow down a bit - take it from the bottom to the top,” Eric coached. Dele did as he was told and Eric moaned deep in his chest, cock throbbing in Dele’s fingers. “Play with my balls,” Eric gasped, and Dele did so, marvelling at how tight they were. It didn’t take much longer for Eric to come, pooling down the side of Dele’s hand, over the bottom of Eric’s stomach. 

Dele wiped his hands on his own boxers and sat down on the coach, bringing his beer back to his mouth for a swig. He didn’t want to move or speak for fear Eric would clap his hands and call him a cab. He didn’t want this bubble to burst. 

“Wanna play FIFA?” Eric asked after a while. 

Dele nodded casually, trying to play it cool. Inside he was screaming. Eric set up the TV and passed Dele a controller, and it was as if the last half an hour hadn’t even happened. There was no awkwardness or weird energy. Dele had never felt more relaxed in his entire life. 

They went up to bed some time after 3am. They got each other off again under the covers and then fell into a quiet sleep in Eric’s enormous bed. Dele fell asleep feeling satisfied deep in his bones with a smile on his face that he couldn’t quite control. 

When he woke up in the morning Eric was gone, but there was a note on his pillow. 

_Had to head out to work early this morning. Feel free to make yourself a coffee. The door will lock behind you when you are ready to leave. Text me? 07932 114873. E x_

~

They texted non stop after that. 

Harry was always peering at Dele suspiciously and asking who it was he was texting. Robyn would whack Harry round the back of the head playfully and tell him to shut up and mind his own business but she winked at Dele happily. 

The mood in the house changed when Dele wasn’t moping around. He was enjoying getting to know Eric, learning about the books he liked and that he was into art. He could speak Portuguese, apparently, and Dele thought that was incredibly hot. 

He told Eric all about his love for fashion and keeping fit and travelling. They texted late into the night, hot and steamy messages about what they’d be doing if they were together. Dele was hooked. 

He didn’t feel sick with anger when he went into London city centre for the first time in a while, too. The Christmas lights were kind of nice and he found that people were friendlier when he wasn’t scowling at them. He got Pret and sent Eric pictures of it. He picked up Harry and Robyn’s Christmas presents and couldn’t wait to get home and wrap them. 

Dele and Robyn got drunk and watched The Holiday one night when Harry was working late, and by the end of the movie Dele was pulling on his trainers and booking an Uber to Eric’s house. 

He breezed into Eric’s house like he belonged there, the alcohol burning off any fear he might’ve had about their second meeting being awkward or not the same as their first. There was no reason to worry anyway because they just clicked, and Eric was laughing at Dele’s tipsyness and wrestling with him on the sofa, only half heartedly protesting when Dele pinned him down and sucked two new bruises into his neck to replace the one that was fading from before. 

He really had gone round to have another mind blowing orgasm but he ended up falling asleep on the sofa with the dogs draped over him. When he woke up he was in Eric’s bed. This time there was no note but there was a text on his phone asking if he wanted to come over the following night for dinner. Dele grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. 

~ 

Eric said he’d cook beef wellington for dinner if Dele could bring the desert. 

He agonised over what to buy in M&S for close to an hour. Did he go for a hot apple crumble with fresh custard, or a juicy trifle topped with fluffy whipped cream? Did he choose a light but rich chocolate ganache mousse or some fresh strawberries? In the end he left with a box of profiteroles and thick double cream. He hoped they’d pair well with whatever a beef wellington was. 

Dele showered and dressed and darted out the door before Harry and Robyn could quiz him. He was almost embarrassed to drive his old rust bucket of a car into Eric’s street but his excitement to just get there overwhelmed those anxieties. 

He turned down AJ Tracey when he pulled into Eric’s street, not wanting to attract attention. Dele parked in Eric’s driveway and felt himself get slightly aroused at the sight of his Corsa parked next to Eric’s Aston Martin. He gathered up the profiteroles and tried not to run to the front door. 

Eric opened the door with a tea towel slung over his shoulder, a black loose jumper on and faded blue jeans. Dele grinned at him as he entered the house, petting the dogs with his free hand and taking in the smell of the food wafting through the place. 

“It smells amazing,” Dele mused, following Eric into the kitchen. “Oh my god. You really cooked this?” 

“Yeah,” Eric smiled. “Got in from work after two and I’ve been cooking since.” 

“A man of many talents,” Dele said, helping himself to a beer from the fridge. “Where do you work by the way? City centre?” 

Eric shrugged and waved a hand in the air. “Kind of. New building. It’s really nice. So you decided on profiteroles did you?” 

“Yes I did,” Dele smirked. “Maybe you could feed me some later?” 

Eric laughed at that and Dele blushed, cringing at himself. He came forward into Eric’s space and kissed his mouth softly before tucking his face into Eric’s neck and breathing in. He expected to smell his clean aftershave scent but paused, pulling back with a frown. 

“Why do you smell like... grass?” 

Eric seemed to freeze. Dele narrowed his eyes at him, confused, and then Eric quickly said “I was playing with the dogs in the garden when I got in from work. I’ve not had time to shower, had to get this lot on.” 

“I like it, weirdly,” Dele said, hands resting on Eric’s hips. “It’s manly.” 

“I hope you’re hungry,” Eric said. “I’ve made a lot of food.” 

“Always,” Dele breathed, leaning in and kissing him some more. 

~ 

Dele laid on the couch after dinner with his jeans unbuttoned. He groaned as Eric sat down next to him, his eyes glittering as he laughed at Dele’s sorry state. 

“How aren’t you dying right now?” Dele whined. “I can’t eat again for the rest of my life.” 

“You insisted on a third plate!” 

“Because it was so good!” 

Eric laughed again and kissed Dele’s forehead. Dele’s heart stuttered and he had to breathe deep to be sure he wasn’t having a heart attack. 

“So no room for profiteroles then?” 

Dele looked up at Eric. “Don’t be silly. My dessert stomach has plenty of room.” 

“Oh does it now?” 

“Yes it does. Fetch the profiteroles please, Eric. Go quick now.” 

“Yes sir,” Eric grinned, going off in search of chou pastry and cream. 

They only managed two each before the dessert was forgotten about in favour of making out. Eric was leaning into Dele’s space, hands roaming over his body and over his full belly in the most deliciously agonising way. When he whispered in Dele’s ear asking if he wanted to take a shower with him, Dele could only whimper a high pitched yes please at him. 

They discarded their clothes on the way upstairs. Eric had a massive shower, a big stupid walk in thing that was bigger than Dele’s whole bedroom. The water fell from a massive shower head above them so there was none of the usual shower sex awkwardness where one person can’t get under the spray. 

Dele lifted a bottle of Dove body wash and drizzled it onto Eric’s broad chest. He worked it into a lather over his pecs, his stomach, under his armpits. The bruises he’d put on Eric’s neck were beginning to fade, and he made a resolution to replace them with more. 

Eric took Dele’s cock in his hand and stroked it slowly, his spare hand coming to rest in Dele’s hair and pull it hard. Dele almost came instantly and he had to breathe deeply through his nose. He took a hold of Eric’s own dick and they got each other off simultaneously, panting into one another’s mouths. 

Dele collapsed against Eric’s body and breathed as the water crashed down over them. Eric ran his fingers up and down Dele’s back, and Dele thought that maybe there was a life here in the UK for him after all. 

~ 

The week before Christmas, Dele woke up in Eric’s bed to a cup of tea, a sausage sandwich and a perfectly wrapped little box. 

He sat up and smiled blearily at Eric. “What is that?” 

“Your Christmas present,” Eric said softly. “I know it’s early but I want you to have it.” 

“I didn’t get you one,” Dele said, feeling bad. “I mean, I will before next week but - you didn’t have to -“ 

“It’s okay,” Eric said, pushing the present at Dele. “Open it. You deserve it.” 

Dele pulled the ribbon apart and let the red satin fall into his lap. He looked up at Eric again, at his kind face and the bruises on his neck left by Dele, and thought that all of this was too good to be true. He leaned forward and kissed Eric’s cheek one more time for luck. 

He turned his attention back to the package. Inside the wrapping paper was a red and gold box, with the word _Cartier_ on top. Dele gasped as he opened the box and found an iconic Cartier love bracelet, glinting on its little cushion and apparently all for him. 

“Jesus - I can’t accept this,” Dele said half heartedly, praying Eric would insist. 

“Of course you can,” Eric said, taking the box from Dele and unscrewing the little lock. “It was made for your wrist.” 

Dele had always wanted one of these, and he couldn’t even remember if he’d told Eric that or if they were just so deeply understanding of each other in such a short period of time. He watched in awe as Eric put the bracelet on Dele, locking it and putting the screw back in the little red box. 

“I love it,” Dele said, marvelling at his wrist. “I don’t know how I can thank you enough.” 

“I know a way,” Eric said, smiling mischievously. “It involves you eating your eggs in the next two minutes and then joining me in the shower.” 

Dele decided he was probably going to let Eric fuck him this morning. Better not finish the coffee. 

~ 

The days between Christmas and New Year always felt fake. They didn’t count as normal days, not when everything was still hazy and glittery from Christmas but the blues couldn’t fully set in yet with the promise of New Years Eve round the corner. 

Eric had even mentioned something about taking Dele away somewhere to celebrate on the 31st, and Dele couldn’t believe he was going into the new year exploring something like this with someone like Eric. 

Christmas had been lovely. He, Harry and Robyn had gone home to his parent’s house and had a lovely day filled with food and booze and more food. Dele expertly dodged questions about his new love interest and the £5,000 bracelet on his arm, but he had a bit of help from Robyn who was always on his side. 

He texted Eric all day, who had to work, the poor bastard. Dele didn’t quite understand how someone who was their own boss couldn’t take the day off for Christmas, but he supposed it was that work ethic that made Eric as rich as he was. 

When it was time for them to leave the family home and return back to London all Dele wanted to do was rest and go round to Eric’s house, but Harry insisted he come out for a few pints with the boys. 

“Come on, Del! Don’t go getting all misery guts on me again,” Harry whined. 

Dele rolled his eyes. “Fine, Jesus. Where are you all going again?” 

“We’re going down to see Tottenham play. Don’t look at me like that! We’ll be in the hospitality suite so you’ll be warm and you’ll get a nice meal out of it. I know you hate it -“ 

“Yeah, I fucking hate it. All of it.” 

“But it would mean a lot to me. C’mon Del, it’s annual boy’s night. Please?” 

“I already said yes,” Dele muttered, but he couldn’t help but laugh when Harry yelled out in happiness and leapt on him. 

“Get dressed then!” Harry said, bouncing off for a shower. “Dress nicely too. None of your weird fashion shit.” 

Dele dressed in his weird fashion shit. He wore a big oversized rainbow jumper and ripped jeans, Balenciaga trainers and even put a little dangly earring on. Harry didn’t even have a second to moan at him because the car was outside honking its horn obnoxiously. 

They said goodbye to Robyn and loaded into the car with the other lads. These were Harry’s childhood friends, the kind of lads Dele couldn’t be bothered with and had actively fled to Australia to avoid. He greeted them all politely and accepted a beer for the drive over to the stadium, taking out his phone and texting Eric _getting dragged out for a drink with my brother’s friends lol kill me now_. 

Eric text back instantly. _aw my baby, it’ll be okay. working late tonite but come over tomorrow morning?_

_of course_ , Dele replied. He couldn’t wait to be back in civilised society - as far away from football as possible. 

They pulled up at the stadium and Dele couldn’t manage to stifle a groan. Harry and his friends were already chanting a song about the Spurs marching somewhere and Dele felt mortified when the fans milling about outside the stadium joined in as they left the taxi. 

The stadium was nice, he could admit that. He followed the lads in the direction of the hospitality suite. It was fancy as fuck, and full of those annoying WAGs he’d seen at the party a few weeks ago. 

Dele ordered himself another beer and tried his best to enjoy himself. It was nice seeing Harry so excited, actually. That was the best part of all this. They had seats that overlooked the field from inside, meaning they could stay warm and cosy whilst everyone else out there froze their balls off. 

Dele watched them all chase after the ball down on the pitch. He could gather that Spurs were in white and the other team were in blue, but other than that the game meant nothing to him. He was incredibly bored, almost nodding off a few times. 

They ate at half time, a meal that was so fancy he could hardly even enjoy it. He thought about Eric at corporate dinners and wondered if he ate shit like this and enjoyed it. He wished Eric was here so they could take the piss out of everyone together. 

The second half resumed and it seemed Harry and his mates were bored, too. Harry was tipsy and he turned to Dele with a glint in his eye. “Right then, cards on the table. Tell me about this girl you’ve been seeing.” 

Maybe it was the booze or maybe it was the altitude of the hospitality box, but Dele couldn’t be bothered pretending. He puffed out his chest and said “He’s a guy, actually. Met him at that house party a few weeks ago.” 

Harry frowned. “Oh. Right. I didn’t realise - you met him at the party? I didn’t think anyone there was... you know...” 

“A homo?” 

“No Del, Jesus. I didn’t realise anyone there was into guys. Why are you getting so defensive?” 

Dele opened his mouth to tell Harry that you didn’t get to know everyone’s sexuality in the world, you weren’t entitled to it, so how the fuck could he know who liked guys at that party, when the box erupted into cheers. 

Spurs had scored, in the 86th minute. Dier. Dele rolled his eyes and clapped sarcastically. Good for that guy. At least it wouldn’t be long until they could leave and go to a real bar, somewhere decent with good music. Away from football hooligans and everything that that entailed. 

The game finished 1-0 to Spurs. Everyone was ecstatic, of course, and that did lift Dele’s spirits. Harry pulled him into a bear hug and whispered “I’m so happy you’ve found someone who makes you happy, bro. Thank you for coming today. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Dele smiled, feeling emotional all of a sudden. “I haven’t been this happy for so long.” 

Dele expected they’d leave then, but apparently some of the players would come up to the hospitality to meet people and some of Harry’s mates wanted a picture with the manager. 

Dele flopped down on his seat and sighed dramatically. He was fucking about on his phone when he heard Harry’s friends tittering excitedly as the players came in, nudging each other to approach them first. 

“I want a picture with Dier,” one of them said behind Dele. “Although - oh my god, check out the love bites on his neck. What a fucking shagger. He been seeing a vampire or something?” 

“Shut up,” Harry scolded. “He’s coming over.” 

Dele rolled his eyes as he heard Harry introduce his friends to the player one by one. He really didn’t want to get involved, but then Harry was patting his head and saying “And this is my brother, Dele. He was at the party a few weeks ago, I dunno if you’ll remember.” 

Dele turned around, pasting on a tight smile. 

His heart dropped out of his chest. 

It was Eric. His Eric. Standing there, his face crestfallen, eyes wide with horror. Wearing a Spurs training jacket and with Dele’s love bites all over his throat. Dele’s brain was doing 200 miles an hour as he scrambled to make this make sense. Eric - Eric _Dier_. He was at that party weeks ago because he was a footballer. He always smelled of sweat and grass because he was a fucking footballer. He was so rich because he was a fucking _footballer._

“Del,” Eric said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t think -“ 

“You didn’t say,” Dele said dumbly, face hot. Everyone was staring at him. “You didn’t mention.” 

“What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking between them. And then he seemed to realise, his face turning white, and he grabbed Dele’s shoulder hard. “You didn’t realise? What he does?” 

“Del, if I can just have a word with you in quiet,” Eric babbled, also reaching out to grab at Dele. “Just come down here -“ 

“Get off,” Dele said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I need to go. I’m just going to go.” 

He pushed past them, stumbling towards the door. The room was spinning and he was pretty sure this was a panic attack. Eric was a fucking professional footballer? All this time? 

“Stop it,” Eric said from behind Dele, grabbing at his arm. “Just wait!” 

“I really, really don’t have anything to say right now,” Dele hissed, snatching his arm back. “I don’t know who you are. You’re a liar.” 

Eric’s face crumpled and so did Dele’s heart. Before he could think of doing anything else he let his feet carry him away, out of the suite, down the stairs, through the turnstiles. People were outside waving their arms and singing “I love Eric Dier, Eric Dier loves me.” Dele didn’t know how he hadn’t fucking realised. 

He flagged down the first taxi he saw and got into the back, shaking. The cabbie looked at him in the rear view mirror through narrowed eyes. “Not gonna be sick are you mate?” 

Dele shook his head. “No. Just - take me home. 21 South mid street.” 

The cab driver seemed unsure but he sighed and pulled into the stream of traffic and Dele put his face into his hands and breathed out a shaky breath. How could he have been so fucking stupid? Did Eric’s so called app even exist? 

He should’ve known it was too good to be true. Football was one of the most homophobic sports in the world, and there was no way he and Eric could ever hope to have any kind of relationship. No wonder they’d never gone out to a restaurant to eat or exchanged social media. Dele had stupidly just thought Eric was ultra private. 

His phone was buzzing in his pocket but he ignored it. He couldn’t stand to hear the stupid excuses. The bottom line was he’d been used by an arsehole footballer to have some fun. He was going into the new year with nothing. 

He paid the taxi driver and fell into the house, unable to hold the tears back anymore. Robyn found him crumpled on the stairs, bawling like a baby. She held him tight and kissed his hair, letting him cry it out. Dele had never been more thankful for another human being in his life. 

“He’s a footballer,” Dele said when he’d finally stopped sobbing. “He lied to me.” 

“I know, love. Harry text me,” she said carefully, dabbing Dele’s nose with her dressing gown sleeve. “He said the guy seemed pretty upset.” 

“He told me has an app,” Dele said. “I believed it. He never said he was a footballer.” 

“That must feel pretty awful,” Robyn said. “Especially given how anyone who knows you knows how much you hate football.” 

“Exactly!” 

“But do you think, maybe, this guy liked you? And knew that, and didn’t want you to judge him for his job?” 

Dele sat up and looked at her through puffy eyes. He shook his head. “No. I think he’s just an arse.” 

“That’s okay too,” Robyn said. “I would feel that way as well. But I just think - and I’m totally on your side here - I just think maybe he was scared, too. Footballers can’t really be out can they? Maybe he wanted to pretend he’s normal for a bit. That doesn’t excuse him lying to you. But maybe it explains why he did it. And maybe that’ll give you some peace.” 

Dele loved her, he really did. “Thanks, Robyn. I think I just want to sleep. I’m exhausted.” 

“You go and get into bed and I’ll bring you a hot water bottle, alright? Go on. We love you and we’re here for you, Dele. You know that don’t you?” 

He was going to cry again so he just nodded and squeezed her hand. Robyn left to go and fill the kettle and Dele carried himself to his room, collapsing under his covers and curling into a little ball the way he did when he was a kid and everything felt a little bit too much. 

~ 

Dele spent the next few days moping around the house in his pyjamas eating Christmas selection boxes and feeling sorry for himself. 

He spent a long time googling Eric Dier. He played for England - gross - and loads of Insta girls were connected with him - double gross. But he also spoke about racism and LGBT rights on his social media, a lot. He was vocally anti Brexit. He liked art and dogs and really did have a food app. 

There were swathes of articles about Eric’s bruised neck. Dele blushed furiously as he looked at the pictures accompanying these articles. He saved a few of the photos for himself, just for memory’s sake. 

Harry was fuming about it all. He kept stomping about saying he was going to kill Eric for hurting his little brother. Dele appreciated it for the first day but after that he took to telling Harry to shut up. He just didn’t want to hear about it. 

He kept thinking about what Robyn had said, about how Eric was probably petrified too. He wanted to talk to Eric so badly but he kept thinking about what it meant now that he knew Eric was a famous sportsman. They could never have a normal relationship, so what was the point in trying? Dele didn’t want a life hounded by cameras and the press and trolls. He didn’t want to be the first gay WAG. He didn’t want to be a WAB. 

Eric kept texting him but Dele didn’t read any of them. He wanted to take the stupid bracelet off too but he couldn’t get it off his wrist without the screw, and Eric had that. More than once he wanted to use that as an excuse to go round there and see him. _”I’m only here to return this thing. Nothing else.”_ Something like that as an excuse to just see him. 

Dele felt himself spiralling again, deep into the depression that had been clouding him before. He knew Robyn and Harry were worried about him but he couldn’t pretend. He couldn’t shake off the misery that he was plunged into once again, stuck in the UK with no prospects of happiness. He wanted to leave. 

Harry and Robyn were meant to be going to a sky bar to celebrate New Years but they both told Dele they’d stay in with him instead. “We can get a Chinese and watch the telly,” Robyn insisted. “I’ll buy us face masks.” 

That was how Dele found himself on the 31st December. Sat on the sofa in his joggers, with a sheet mask on and a glass of stupid champagne back in his hand. Tasting the stars indeed. 

Harry ordered the food and Dele did his best not to feel like this was the worst, most depressing night of his life. He was 24 and celebrating New Years Eve like this - alone and third wheeling his brother and sister in law. 

He felt a bit better after a while of laughing at Harry and Robyn bickering over what to watch and a few glasses of the champagne. He was starving by the time the door went with the food, and he wasted no time in jumping up and running to the door, eager to get his hands on some chicken chow mein. 

When he opened the door his heart jolted in his chest. The delivery guy was stood on the door step holding Dele’s food and gawping at Eric Dier, who had obviously just turned up and was shuffling from foot to foot awkwardly. 

“Eric Dier! Can I have a picture?!” The delivery guy said, thrusting the food at Dele without even looking at him. “Oh my god, such a big fan mate, honestly that penalty at the World Cup, WOW, couldn’t fucking believe -“ he took out his phone and passed it to Dele. “Do you mind?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Eric mouthed at Dele, looking pained. 

Dele shook his head and snapped the picture, handing the guy his phone back. “Aw honestly, made my year that. Right then, I better get off - if you ever want a Chinese you phone Dragon Palace and ask for Derek, right?” 

Eric smiled half heartedly and looked at Dele as the guy headed off back towards his old beat up Honda. “Dele. I am so, so sorry.” 

Dele bit his lip. He heard Harry calling him from the kitchen, asking what was taking so long. He looked up at Eric sadly. “You lied to me,” he breathed, the food in his hands burning through the plastic bag. “You didn’t tell me about a big part of your life.” 

“I was terrified,” Eric said. “I thought it would only be a one night thing. I didn’t think it would matter that you didn’t know. I was greedy and selfish actually, I was enjoying that you didn’t know or care who I am. I don’t often meet people that don’t already have a preconceived idea of me. I wanted to enjoy just being Eric for a little bit.” 

“We wouldn’t be able to hold hands walking down the street or go for a Tesco shop on a Sunday afternoon. We couldn’t be a real couple.” 

Eric shook his head desperately. “No, we couldn’t exactly walk around the shops unbothered. But we could also both go our separate ways and never feel again the way we do together. I mean for me anyway, I’m so happy with you. I don’t know. I think I’d feel the same way around you in any different universe. I think if we were a man and a woman I’d have already asked you to marry me by now. I think if we were both footballers I’d be finding a way to love you in secret. Or in public, I don’t know. I don’t think I care. I just think you make me so happy and I’m not ready for that to be over yet. I’d like another chance to get to know you properly. Please don’t tell me it’s over, Dele.” 

Dele looked at Eric’s pleading eyes and then down at his feet. It was everything he needed to hear. He didn’t want to fight this, he didn’t want to stand on a moral high ground, he didn’t want to be right. He just wanted Eric. 

“My dinner’s getting cold,” Dele said by way of answer. Eric’s face fell. “Do you want to come inside and have some? We’ve got champagne. And face masks.” 

“Yes,” Eric nodded, relief sweeping over his features. “Dele, yes. I’d love to.” 

Dele stepped back and let Eric into the hallway. They both turned around to see Robyn and Harry staring at them, mouths ajar. Dele cleared his throat. “We all know each other, don’t we? Eric, this is my brother and sister in law. Harry and Robyn, this is my... Eric. I don’t want to discuss anything further than that. Shall we?” 

~

Later on, after they’d all got drunk together on the sofa and kissed at midnight and danced around the living room to Auld Lang Syne, Dele pulled his bedsheets over his and Eric’s head and cupped Eric’s cheeks in his hands. 

“So you’re a footballer,” he said, voice barely a whisper. “I hate footballers.” 

“I promise I’m not like the others,” Eric replied, thumbs brushing Dele’s hips. “Especially not when I’ve got you in my life.” 

“I only like one footballer. Harry Kane. That’s it.” 

Eric snorted. “Of course you do. I think you’d really get on with the other lads though. If you ever decided you’d be comfortable meeting them.” 

Dele thought about this. “Maybe I would like to be the first WAB. Iconic. Ground breaking. Words that describe me perfectly.” 

“Yeah,” Eric smiled, kissing Dele’s lips. “You are all of those things.” 

“Yes I am. Now, back to the small matter of your neck. You let me give you love bites like that?! You’ve been all over The Sun!” 

“It’s funny! They lose their minds over it. I find it hilarious. And I liked being marked by you.” 

That went right to Dele’s dick. “Good. Because I’m going to give you even more now. All over.” 

“I can’t wait,” Eric sighed, pulling Dele’s hips against his. “Happy new year, babe. I can’t wait for many more with you.”


End file.
